From Ashes
by Xenter
Summary: Harry, with his carefree lifestyle, rarely cares for the events that happened around the world. It wasn't his problem, or so he thought. But when he learned about his birthright as well the circumstances leading to his reincarnation along with fragmented memories and hidden enemies, it becomes his problem. MoD/Powerful/Intelligent/Deductive Harry. AU! R&R! Pairing's Secret.
1. Renewed

**From Ashes (Harry Potter x Game of Thrones)**

**Disclaimer: **This story is fiction. All the characters, names and places belong to their respective owners.

"Talking"  
>'Thoughts'<br>"**Demonic Talks**"  
>"<strong><em>TechniquesMoves_**"  
>"<span>Memory Lane<span>"  
>(Thought Bubbles).<br>**_Important Names._**

Initially called **_Heroes of Might and Magic_**, but I found it quite cliché. I'm not sure how long this story will be, but we shall see. This story is about betrayal, treachery and revenge along with a side of justice, or injustice if you will. I don't think I've underpowered the protagonist in anyway, but feel free to point it out if I did.

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><p><strong>=[From Ashes]=<br>Renewed**

Storm raged; waves battered; woods shattered. Gloomy clouds reigned uncontested above, and thunders filled the world with dreadful roars with each dreadful bolt. Lightning flashes brightened up the darken sky, but brought no comforts to anyone. Countless droplets fell in tandem and attempted to fill the unrelenting sea. Their numerous deaths soaked the wooden deck of a vessel that courageous enough to navigate through here. Beads of liquids infected brave men's face while muscles bulged beneath their sun-blistered skin. Powerful arm grips tightened around a knotted rope, fighting against an unseen opponent.

Untiring and unyielding their adversary was. They all knew the outcome to this battle, yet they held on with all their might. Fear filled their being, but they overcame it with their proud and mighty spirit. As terrifying as the prospect of their death may seem, it was not more so than the loss of their honor and promise.

"Lady Arryn, you should not be here," the captain advised, nudging her gently back into the cabin. The auburn-haired woman with starling green eyes refused to comply with the bearded man's wishes. This was no place for a noble born lady as the chance of being swept by the wave that invaded the deck was high for someone of her statue. Still, she wanted to help even if just a little.

"If the mast goes down, it does not matter where I was," she replied as the captain shook his head at her logic. Courageous and brave she might be, but she lacked the physique and strength to be of any use. Furthermore, her safety was above all. She was the reason why they had to transverse this stormy sea in haste.

"Please, my Lady. You-" A powerful wave managed to climb onto the ship from the side. It slammed all its might into both of them, flinging him and her against the preoccupied men. The men were taken by surprise, and more than a few was swept along the torrent of water. Their grip lost hold of the rope during that time, and half the sail unfurled against the furious wind.

"Tie the ropes down you fool!" The captain bellowed while trying to recover, but it was too late. The mast buckled under the force, and splinters erupted from the great wooden spar. The tallest and thickest one fell like being axed, slamming itself against another spar and forcing that one to join it in the descent. Their heavy, dense bodies crushed men and railing alike before swung across the deck to the edge of the ship. In doing so, fragile balance was lost as the ship began to tilt to one side. The sea saw and decided to land a hand as waves upon waves slammed itself against the opposite side of the vessel. With the combined effort, the ship finally capsized.

"AAAH!" Lady Arryn shrieked as she joined a few men in their fall.

The captain saw as he held onto a still attached railing. "My Lady," he roared, trying to grab her slender hand, but missed it by an inch. The sea accepted the generous gifts as the tides tried to pull the men under and into its dark embrace. The men refused the offer and splashed vigorously, trying to keep themselves afloat. As the captain watched from his spot upon the sinking ship, fears gripped his heart. However, it quickly drowned out by his faith and courage. He mustered his strength and break off a wide wooden planking before joining his liege lady in the chilling water.

"Hold on to this, it will keep you afloat," he advised as she immediately complied. There, on the ocean surface while using the floating driftwood as a floater, they watched their ship being pulled down into the depth. Rains continued poured from the heaven along with occasional lightning flashes, brightening up their murky surrounding. Little by little, everything around them vanished and eventually, only they remained on the stabilizing sea. He shook his head, knowing that all the men on the ship had gone into their watery grave. He continued to mourn for his crew before noticing the white steam emerging from an orifice nearby. Her hand was pale and visibly shaken in the chilling air.

"My Lady," he called out, but she shook her head.

"I am fine," Lady Arryn replied as they continued to swim toward the only silhouette of an island that came into view with the help of glittering moonlight. They could wait for a passing ship there. On the way, her grip failed her and she began to submerge, but a powerful hand held around her waist and pulled her up. The same limb then lifted her up onto the planking entirely as she drifted into unconsciousness while holding her slight bulged stomach, trying to protect it from harm.

"I will get you to safety my Lady even if it's the last thing I do," he vowed and pushed the floating debris onward with his already failing strength. He lost any feeling to his legs and hands before long, and any distance he gained was exchange for his remaining life.

That event happened almost two decades ago as a black-haired man with starling green eyes watched the endless waves battered against the side of his newest ship in reminiscence. A dark robe that hid the brown leather tunic he adorned beneath swayed gently against the incoming chilling breeze while a small crimson bird with golden tails pecked on his shoulder. It made no noise while doing so, and the only sound that filled his ears was from the ocean itself. He immersed himself in that melody along with his current carefree life, sailing across the world without ends. He would continue to do so once the task he placed upon himself was complete. After a few more minutes of enjoyment or contemplation, he turned around and headed down below the deck to where his prisoners await.

**XxXxX**

"Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!" The pretender to the throne demanded as the punishment to treason was death. Eddard 'Ned' Stark was not a traitor no matter how much the crowd roared that same word. He examined their scornful faces filling the plaza as far as he could see. They jabbed their fingers and fists directly at him while his eldest daughter to his side beseeched the newly crowned King for mercy. It was not granted, and she fell to her knees, sobbing hysterically. Her crying along with the screaming of the mass soon no longer entered his ears. Every audible sound seemed to be blocked out completely as a single thought invaded his mind. He knew that no matter what anyone had accused him of, his path was true and righteous.

'I'm sorry,' he thought, thinking about the safety of his daughters. He accepted his fate so that they may live even as a hostage. It was the only thing he could do for them now in exchange for his life. He was forcibly kneeled and lowered his head to reveal his neck for the executioner. The Lord of Winterfell closed his eyes and began to pray to the old gods in his last moment.

Seconds went by before everything went silence. The strike never came.

"You cannot die yet, Lord Stark," someone proclaimed. The voice seemed to be very close. Eddard opened his eyes and saw black fabric obscuring his view. His eyes ran up and found it was a man in completely jet black robe with matching hood, which covered most of his face. Even from his position, Eddard could not make out the man's face completely. There was also a strange crimson bird by his right shoulder.

The executioner, Ser Ilyn, seemed to be frozen like a statue.

"What you think you are doing?" The boy-King questioned. No one seemed to notice the new comer's arrival. He was simply there in the next moment. The guards drew their blades and tried to append the trespasser, but the hooded man waved his hands across the air. They distinctively heard he muttered a foreign language before they felt something slimy and squirming in their hands.

People shrieked and gasped as the soldier finally noticed their fine steel blades had transformed themselves into rather large pythons. The snake twisted around and hissed at them at least once before they managed to snap out of their stupor and allowed it to land on the ground in shock. They quickly realized that every long-sword in sight had transformed into all manner of snakes, including the holstered ones. The numerous carnivorous reptiles hissed and lurched at a few people in the mass inducing panic. The hysterical crowds began running for their lives, trampling over each other.

"Magic," the bold fat man pronounced without any visible fear in his voice. However, his posture was visible shaken as a few snakes wiggled around him along with others. He, along with very few others, had noticed that the snake did not bit anyone thus far. The Queen was holding her son, pulling him further away as men surrounded the hooded man and the traitor. Their heavy armor would protect them from the fanged danger slithering around the earth.

"Perceptive," the hooded man replied, cocking his head to the side.

"What are you doing? Seize him!" The child King demanded viciously, but the guards were reluctant to do so as they had never seen such thing before. Fear was clearly visible in their eyes as they tightened their grips on their knife's handle. The glittering steel edge was directing at the hooded figure.

The sorcerer simply smirked and pointed two of his fingers into the air as flames gushed out and swirled around, taking shape rapidly. "**_Vermilion_**," he declared as a large bird made of crimson and orange flames screeched into the air and flapped its vast wings at the guards. Searing heat waves generated from the flapping motion washed over the area. Armored men staggered back from the living inferno as they covered their eyes from the bright light. While that was going on, the hooded man returned his attention back to the disgraced Lord. Eddard Stark was on his back, shielding his eyes from the supernatural flames behind the figure. It was like the person had wings made of flames protruding from his side.

"Lord Stark. What happened on that day twenty years ago?"

"Twenty years ago?" Lord Stark mumbled before narrowing his eyes more. There were many things happened twenty years ago, but very few that would be of interest. "If you want to learn about the Rebellion, I suggest you find a library."

From that answer, a frown formed on the hooded man's face. "I see… I think you need an incentive," he replied and cocked his head to behind to see the now rather vacant plaza. A certain black-haired girl that he noted was gone from view; she probably was hiding somewhere nearby to see what was going on along with more than a few curious citizens. He then eyed the frightened group nearby and saw the auburn-haired girl on her knee with puffy eyes.

"She will do fine, Fawkes," he pointed at the girl as the bird on his shoulder glided along the air and landed on the recent weeping girl's shoulder. Before the men around her could do anything, both of them – girl and bird – exploded in a swirling inferno.

"NO! SANSA!" Eddard Stark roared as he lurched at the hooded man in rage even. However, the man muttered something and the ropes around his arms grew and branched out. It quickly bounded his shoulders and legs very tightly as he collapsed back to the earth as tears distorted his vision. The cold harden heart inside him had cracked. He was powerless to save his daughter.

"WHY!? What have my daughter ever done to deserve that?"

The hooded man raised an eyebrow and understood the reason immediately. He sighed and crouched down at the weeping man. "We will take this elsewhere, Lord Stark," he said and placed a hand on the Lord of Winterfell's shoulder. The air around them rippled, and before everyone's eyes, they both vanished. The bird made of flame and light dissipated once its master was no longer around. The snakes around the area stiffened and straightened before turning back into swords again.

The guards finally picked up their missing weapons after kicking it a couple of time to make sure it was normal steel. Soon enough, whispers and rumors spread outside and inside the capital. People did not know what to make of all this, but one thing for certain; the Starks – or at least one – was rescued by some sort of sorcerer that could conjure up fiery creature right under the King's nose. Another problem was Ser Ilyn still in a paralyzed state that no maester could figure out a way to help him. He would be so until the magic ran its course.

No one seemed to notice sanding on the top of the Red Keep was a man with crimson red eyes. He'd watched the entire display in the plaza with a frown.

"What are you doing? You remembered how to do magic, but nothing about why you were here in the first place?" He lamented before sighing. "When will you be back, my Master of Death?" He enquired with the air before a broad smile appeared on his face. As if he knew exactly when, he disappeared from that spot like a mirage.

**XxXxX**

A dark-haired man with grey eyes did not know what to think. He was more shock than anything in his life as he couldn't fathom how it was possible for him to be here thousands of miles away from his previous location. It was only ten or so minutes ago. Even with magic, it seemed implausible. His grey eyes examined around the holding cell once more before stopping at his eldest daughter, who did not died after all. However, both of them were bounded by a strange rope that tightened the more they tried to squirm out of.

"Where are we? Who are you?" Lord Stark asked once his captor had entered through the only door into the holding area. The black hood was no longer covering his face as he eyed Lord Stark a little and then at the surrounding to examine the molds and seaweeds that infested one corner of the room. After a few seconds, he returned his attention back to the older man.

"You are on _The Lone Maiden_, Lord Stark. I'm terribly… terribly sorry for you and your daughter current accommodation. I will give you better quarter once I have sufficient answers," he apologized with a small courtesy bow before straightening himself again.

"_The Lone Maiden…_" Lord Stark muttered. Green eyes watched the Lord of Winterfell's expression carefully before nodding with an understanding.

"Yes, you are not wrong Lord Stark. This is the ship that was forced to flee the Vale of Arryn just before the Rebellion. It is the same ship that was lost in the storm and sunk to the ocean floor of the Narrow Sea, where it lies in waiting for almost two decades until I raised it from the depth," the man answered and flicked his hand across the air. A chair materialized out of nowhere as he sat down between the two captives.

It took the Starks more than a few seconds to swallow whatever was bothering them when seeing that. Their captor remained impassive at their stunned expression.

"Please, why are you doing this?" Sansa asked weakly. The green eyes paid her a little attention before turning to Lord Stark again.

"Why exactly, Lord Stark?"

Those words seemed to imply something, but Eddard Stark did not know. "Who are you?" Lord Stark asked again as the man chuckled. He swirled his hands around Lord Stark for a bit as glowing mist formed a blue shield with a flying eagle within it. Below was a banner that had the words "As High as Honor."

"No, it can't be. She was barren," Lord Stark mumbled after estimating how old the seated person was.

"Is she? It was only a year and bit ago that I knew my heritage from the only person who raised me after my mother died. He told me everything on his dying bed. I was confused at first so I decided to find this ship of his. It took me a while, but it was worth it as it contained my mother's belonging. I checked and learnt from her diary that she was running for her life. She suspected it was the Tully, Baratheon, or the Stark… or maybe the combination of three."

"I would never…"

"I know, Lord Stark. Considering your stance on honor, I am sure you wouldn't do something like that… knowingly," the man said before snapping his fingers. The emblem of House Arryn shifted right before the Lord Stark's eyes. The blue glow shifted to crimson, and the words and animal altered.

"My mother named me an Arryn the moment I was born, and so I took that name for her sake. But my father had forsaken her simply because she could not give him a child. That is something I cannot forgive so I will not take his house's legacy. That is why I will make my own House," he said as the emblem finished shifting into a new one. It was the same design, but a red shield instead. The eagle was replaced with a flaming bird, and the motto of the house was "From Ashes, Renewed."

"To answer your previous question, I am Henry of House Phenix," Henry finally introduced himself to both Starks.

"And what would you do if you knew the truth?" Lord Stark asked as Henry waved his hands, forcing the emblem dissipated and not obstruct the older man's view anymore.

"I don't know yet, Lord Stark," Henry said with a frown. He paused for a second before Sansa shrieked in pain as the ropes tightened around her. "But I think we have enough introductions, Lord Stark."

"STOP! I'll do what you want, just let my daughter go," Lord Stark beseeched desperately, trying to break out of his own binding but to no avail.

"What I want… I want justice for my mother. Can you give me that, Lord Stark?"

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><p><strong>Author Note:<strong>

This is AU from here on since well… Lord Stark is not dead. Harry was spoken form of Henry in Middle English so even if he wrote his name as Henry; people would just call him Harry. It just made more sense that way considering GoT is set in such time. I don't think I've nerfed Harry's magic in any form. He doesn't use wand/staff/whatever because he's Master of Death and wand-less magic is pretty much in his ability.

**Spell Used: **Paralyzing/Stunning (Stupefy?), Fiendfyre (Fire-Light bird form), Conjuration (Chair, Ropes), Transfiguration (Swords to Snakes), Apparition (Time-space warping… i.e. Teleportation).

**_Comment, criticisms and review are welcome!  
>Flaming and Insults will be ignored!<em>**


	2. Limited

**From Ashes (Harry Potter x Game of Thrones)**

**Disclaimer: **This story is fiction, all the characters, names and places belong to their respective owners.

Is Wizard (Harry Potter)'s magic greater than Westeros or Essos' magic? It's really difficult to compare until the story developed more. Neither world really dwelled much on the magic's true capability and throughout all the books/movies/show, magic rarely used fully for what they truly are. In this story, they will be because magic is might!

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><p><strong>=[From Ashes]=<br>Limited**

Salted breeze entered his nostrils, flooding the narrow passage and filling his lungs before it was expelled completely. A long held sigh was released as his clear emerald eyes no longer focused itself on the disturbed water surface. He massaged the back of his neck before placing his face on the same palm. He rubbed his eyes wearily. The ocean was vast, stretching beyond the horizon. He knew that, and also knew it would not be easy to find such a small vessel slumbering on the ocean's floor. The task seemed impossible, but he was hopeful nonetheless.

He exhaled and remembered back a year ago.

"Henry… I am not your father," said a bed ridden man with full head of silver. Seated by his side was a black-haired boy of sixteen summers. The boy held his wrinkled hand in a firm, caring manner while the pair of calming green jewels gazed into his blackness. From those eyes, he could not help but saw the person he had failed all those years ago.

"No shit," Henry would have replied with that, but instead, he formed a sad expression on his face and spoke softly. "I know, dad. We don't look anything alike and you're way too old when you have me. With that said, I considered you're as my father since you raised me… taught me…" Henry paused then chuckled a little. From his childhood to now, he had to do everything for himself mostly. It wasn't all that bad as it'd taught him how to be independent. He was thankful that there wasn't some jealous aunt locking him in a cupboard, or an overly spoiled and partial retarded cousin to vex him endlessly. No manipulative old man along with domineering law that was enforced upon him and his abilities, telling him what he can and cannot do. Given all that, it was a fairly good childhood and definitely replaced the earlier one in his memory.

Henry smiled and admitted, "… well, it's the effort that counts."

The old man nodded slowly, blinking once slowly to moisten his eyes. A single bead of liquid managed to escape from the corner, sliding down his bony cheek. He knew he wasn't a father's material decades ago as he never was good with children. However, he couldn't refuse his liege Lady's dying request no matter what. After the pyre that consumed her remains, he tried his best to raise the child as the Seven can attest to that. His chest puffed up before collapsing to let out a breath of relief toward the ceiling. A moment of silence was allowed for him to gather his thought.

"Henry… there's something I must tell you before I could no longer," he claimed, facing the boy again.

Henry raised an eyebrow then scratched the risen brow before querying: "Any chance this has to do with my birth parents?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

Henry rolled his eyes a little at the question. It wasn't that hard to deduce from the current situation; a dying man and a son that was not his. There were only a few things that could say in such moment, and the adopted son's origin definitely was the top of that short list. Regardless, Henry didn't really want to know about his biological parents. The knowledge of who they were mattered to him very little in the long run. He wasn't the emotional kid who yearned for the approval of his parents like before, and as far as he was concerned, he was legally an adult in this world and could whatever the hell he pleased without restrains. However, as his eyes scanned over the worn out figure of his father, he sighed and decided to satisfy the man. It was better to let bottled up secret out and go in peace.

"Just a guess, dad. More importantly, what do you want to tell me about them?" Henry asked, gazing at the old man again.

"You really do have her eyes," the man pointed out as Henry rubbed them in annoyance. He had enough of that comparison in one lifetime.

"Captain!" A bald man called out, snapping Henry out of his reminiscence. The man then weaved his way through the busy bodies that scattered along the path. Even with his muscled body, he was quite agile on his feet. The gap between them was removed, allowing the moderately tanned man with a cross scar on his right cheek to whisper something into Henry's ear: "The men are getting restless. There some rumors. Nothing big, but many demanded their payment or they will take the ship instead."

Henry sighed at that. When his father told him about his mother as well as the ship that was lost at sea, he wasn't at all that interested. The past was the past; dwelling on it was pointless and depressing. And after the old man's passing, Henry left the village to explore new places. Despite all the strange and exotic things he seen in the months that went by, Henry realized he was wandering aimlessly with no real place to belong. The feeling of emptiness soon followed.

"Simm, I've promise them their gold once the task is complete," Henry told first-mate, who also doubled up as a spare cook. Despite all his efforts, there was one thing that Henry could not conjure or transfigure properly, and that was food. For whatever reason beyond his current knowledge and understanding, magic cannot create editable food no matter what. However, it could make something that resembled food or the raw materials required to produce them like animals.

"I must ask, Captain, what exactly is the task? The ship has been anchoring randomly along the Narrow Sea so you to examine the waves. Many, including me, thought you might have afflicted with a strange illness," Simm replied with a headshake. Harry had a glance at the men nearby. It was true that he did not tell the men what the actual task was as they did not need to know as long as they were paid. It was the same as his magical ability as knowing would invite too much unwanted attention.

"Henry. Magic is a curse and a gift. Having it will allow you do great things, but it also sets you apart from everyone else. Until you learn how to control it, please refrained yourself from showing it in public. It is for you own safety so can I trust you on that?"

Henry blinked and remembered some of his father's words. There was some truth in them. Magic was might, but it did not make one invincible. He was still mortal and as a mortal, he could still be killed through various means. Henry looked at his fleshy hand with a frown. Second later, a small lightning spark materialized within it forcing him to form a fist to conceal it.

"Something wrong, Captain?" Simm asked to the side.

"I'm fine. Tell them… I will pay them in full soon in a day or two," Henry requested. It took a moment before Simm nodded.

"Very well, Captain. I will try to keep the men from doing anything stupid," Simm assured as Henry nodded.

Henry returned back to the railing side and watched the sea once more. He was in self-reflection while the sun continued its descent along the sky. "Maybe I'm doing this wrong?" Henry questioned while watching the glimmering light from the bluish surface invaded his vision, distorting it. He blinked at the realization and decided to do what must be done. With a mouthful of air, he jumped overboard at the nearby men's dismay.

"Captain!" Simm called out and joined the rest of the men as they leaned over the ship railing after the loud slash. Foaming could be seen riding the waves, but nothing else was presence. Their captain must have gone under and on purpose.

Below the ship swam a shark. It dived further to the ocean floor. Once its destination was reached, its eyes lit up like a high beam from a powered-lamp, spreading across the murky area. Henry thought that it was much better to simply went below and get personally involved. For that, he had to transfigure himself into something that could stay alive at the crushing depth. He didn't like this branch of magic very much as the instinct of whatever he impersonated as would eventually overwhelm his own senses and self. Animagus was better, but he wasn't sure what form he would take.

"Where's our gold!?" The men roared in anger, focusing all of it on Simm. The majority came to the grim conclusion to why the captain did what he did. The first-mate didn't really know what to do right now, and from their agitation, it won't take more for one to skewer him. It wasn't like they didn't get pay at all as they were fed and watered freely.

"We could sell the ship," Simm reasoned.

"This ship? How much is this barge worth?"

Simm didn't know as the ship spent many months away from port. Wears and tears can be seen in many areas around the deck, but it was still worth something. "I don't know," Simm answered truthfully. They stared at him a little then started arguing with each other again. Before it could escalate into a blood bath, something came to the rescue.

"MAELSTROM!" The lookout called from the crow's nest. The men looked up at him as he jabbed his fingers at the direction by the ship side. They then ran to that side and saw a swirling body of water around a focus. An expanding hole appeared in the center as the spiraling current intensified.

"Turn the ship around!" Simm bellowed, realizing the immediate danger of being trapped in such natural disaster. While the ship tried to break free from the induced vortex, within the growing eye of the whirlpool stood a black-haired man on wet ground. In front of him was the wreckage that he sought for in these months at sea. The ship's name still illustrated in full by one of the rotted wooden planking. He panted and swiped the sweat off his forehead and temple as it took great deal of power to hold back the sea.

He stretched out his index finger, pointing at the ship as magic flowed through as if it was a fleshy wand. 'Reparo,' he thought as the finger pulsed. The wooden debris vibrated and twitched. Seconds later, they spread outwards and uplifted into the air. Each piece – like a jigsaw – began joining into one another, forming the hull, deck, cabins, masts of the once glorious ship before adjoining each other. Some gaps were noted in the planking as those pieces were destroyed long ago. Henry channeled his magic so those missing parts could be regenerated instead, becoming whole again.

"It's gone," the lookout called out as the powerful whirlpool dissipated, freeing the ship. The sea returned to its calmness once more. Everyone left out sigh of relief before something emerged from that same spot. They narrowed their eyes at the object before widening it in shock. It was the tip of a central mast coming up from beneath the surface. With a loud boom, an entire ship escaped the ocean's depth as liquid streamed out the side like waterfall. The ropes around the ship's mast relented, unfurling the sails in its entire as shower of water sprayed outwards along with several seashells. A black-haired man with completely dried attire approached the nearest railing, navigating through pebbles and sea creatures that were still onboard.

"Captain?" Simm called out.

"I thank you all for your help in finding this vessel," Henry complemented with a small bow while facing the other ship. He realized now that he really didn't need their help at all to begin with. "Now, that I have found it, I no longer required your assistance… maybe for my first mate, Simm, over there if he still wished to do so."

"HEY! Where's the gold!?" Someone called out before Simm could answer.

"Ah, right. I did promise that…" Henry began while scanning at the men and estimating how much gold that would be. With a nod, the air around him swirled and rippled before he teleported across the gap to the other ship. He rematerialized by the railing as a few men jerked back in surprise.

"A Warlock!" A few men called out, pulling out their swords. Simm was equally stunned and fidgeting the scimitar by his waist as well.

"Calm down and I'm not called a warlock like those in Qarth. If you want to call me names, then please use wizard or mage." Henry held his hand up to show them he meant no harm. Even with the gesture, the men tightened their grips around their weapon's handle. Henry sighed as his magic flared up and the outline of his cloak glowed brightly while flustering along with the generated aura. Magic swirled within his hand as the men stepped back out of harm ways.

Henry then slammed his palm into the ship deck as a wave of energy erupted, spreading outward and making men to gasp in alarm. In an instant, veins of glittering gold advanced like roots in all direction from below his palm, transmuting woods into gold. While that was going on, Henry stood up and exhaled deeply with dozens of blob of sweat appeared on his forehead. He wiped it away and stretched his arm a little.

"Transmutation takes a lot out of me," Henry said lowly as he leered at Simm, who was in astonishment along with countless other at the feat. Before they could shake out of their awe, the ship's deck had completely converted into precious metal. "Ahem. I think this will suffice, but you should get the ship back to the port quickly because gold is… very heavy," Henry said with a smile. There was no reply as the men were gaping like a fish.

"Well, master Simm. Shall we, or would you like to stay here and enjoy in this wealth?" Henry asked, placing his hand on his first-mate's shoulder. Simm eyed the shiny metal beneath his feet. He then eyed a few men around as they kissed the golden deck in earnest. In that instant, Simm knew that this ship would never make it back to port. He swallowed his greed and turned to face the person he knew in these past few months.

"Aye, Captain," Simm responded as Henry smiled. They both disappeared from that ship to _The Lone Maiden_, which was sailing some distance away. Simm gazed back at the diminishing golden ship with lamented regret. A hand placed itself on the early-twenties man's shoulder as he cocked his head to see the owner.

"They will each kill each other long before they reach port," Henry said dryly. "However, I've been wrong before so it's up to them whether they satisfied with what they got or increase their own portion through bloodshed."

"I…"

"Do not worry, master Simm. You will never have to worry about money again," Henry said as he picked up one of the sea stone that littered around the deck. In his palm, it broke into several lumps then flattened and turned into newly minted gold coins that were widely used in Essos.

"Gold is pretty to look at, but it has no real value to me," Henry said as he placed those coins onto the railing before Simm, making the bald man chuckled before pocketing it.

"Where to, Captain?" Simm asked as Henry stared at the sunset.

"To where the sun never set, I suppose," Henry answered with a wide grin. However, his plan quickly changed once he had a read through the journals that his mother had written. As a son, he felt she deserved some justice.

**XxXxX**

Her hand was visible shaken as she held both of her shoulders. It was not broken anymore, but the phantom pain that once ravaged those spots was still there. It was the same with the burning sensation from a rope that once wrapped itself around her body like a serpent tightened around its prey. Her mind constantly replayed the dreadful screams and the shrieking before her delicate frame conceded defeat. Everything leading to that was the most terrifying experience in her entire life.

She knew what it was, but never thought it would happen to her. To make the matter worst, the doer asked her no question. Her father could have spared her through all of that suffering if he would speak the truth. Why did he lie? Did he want her to suffer? She did not know as she stared up at the clear night sky that adorned the ceiling of her chamber as if the wall were invisible. There were countless twinkling stars above, shining back at her. This was probably one of those magical moments that every little girl wanted, but she was frightened at the falseness of it all as the ray of natural light entered from beyond the curtain to the side. In her fear, she tried to remember what had happened before she passed out.

"Why do you do that?" Henry asked, staring ominously at the captured wolf. Seconds later he tilted his head and it was followed by Sansa's scream. The binding hard pressed against soft skin beneath the fabric, marking its territory more fiercely than before.

"STOP! PLEASE STOP!"

"I simply wanted the undiluted truth from what happened back then. While I do not relished in the pain of others, I am not above torture if it works. Your pain comes from the suffering of your children, and only you could stop it. But I'm disappointed… you lied several times since our session," Henry stated.

"No, I swear everything I said was the truth. Please leave my daughter of this. She's no more than a child," Ned Stark pleaded, his voice cracking. The pain of his child suffering before him and unable to help was unbearable.

"I'm afraid not, Lord Stark. When you say thing other than what you are actually thinking, I can felt the discrepancy through your emotions. In other words, I can detect lies," Henry claimed before a bone crunching sound could be heard from the side. The bones in her arms and shoulders were crushed by the ever increasing grip of the ropes.

"SANSA!"

Sansa sobbed heavily at the excruciating pain pulsing all over her body. The bindings quickly untangled itself at their master command, and he kneeled before the girl's fragile form, brushing the auburn strands out of her face. She had fainted, but was still crying unconsciously.

"Why do you allow your daughter to suffer, Lord Stark? You could end all this," Henry asked, cocking his head at the older man.

"Please, Henry. Listen to me. I swear it on my House, on my life, on my children and before all the gods, old and new, everything I said was the truth… so please, stop this madness," Lord Stark asserted desperately, appealing to the wizard with his unflinching gray eyes.

Henry returned the gaze as they locked for several seconds before averting back to Sansa. He checked the injury he'd afflicted upon her fragile body. He placed his hands upon her body as it glowed with healing energy. The magic mended her bones and healed her wounds.

"I think I might have made a mistake… Lord Stark," Henry admitted as he teleported the girl to another room so she could rest in a soft bed.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Note:<strong>

There will be plenty of magic in this story with some good/dreadful result. Changing one element into another is called **_Transmutation_** so gold (or any materials) has zero value to Henry. Never understood why FF's author has powerful Harry carry his money around, seems redundant. Legilimency is the ability to read mind, emotions as well as detecting lies. Food cannot be conjure/transfigure, but the raw material that makes them can be so not sure why food was against the law of magic.

**_Comment, criticisms and review are welcome!  
>Flaming and Insults will be ignored!<em>**


	3. Lamented

**From Ashes (Harry Potter x Game of Thrones)**

**Disclaimer: **This story is fiction. All the characters, names and places belong to their respective owners.

I put the response to review (R2R) in the review so have a read at that. The past do play a big deal in this story for the first part of the story so I need to illustrate it properly or it would cause confusion later on. The background to Robert Rebellion shifted slightly so Henry's age would make more sense.

* * *

><p><strong>=[From Ashes]=<br>Lamented**

The chilling air blew through the opened window, sending in stream of snow before a woman managed to close it fully again. She was shivering badly, rubbing her arms with her pale hands and trying her best to warm up. It'd become colder in the stone tower with each passing day, and there were no fuel left to use. One by one, the servant had gone elsewhere and did not return. She peered down the circular staircase at the guards below.

"Lady Rowena Arryn," one of the armed men greeted the moment she descended the stone staircase to their level. There were three of them, and from a quick glance, they were not the same men that guarded this tower a day ago.

"Can you get some heat going? It's chilling in here," Lady Arryn asked as the men looked at each other for a few moments. Winter here in the Vale could kill a man if there not sufficient place to keep warm.

"All the burnable materials have been sent to the camp for preparation," the shortest man said. He was about her height so she could examine his facial structure for a bit. It was the only thing could be viewed in depth as it was obscured by the padded plated armor he had on. She realized immediately that this man wasn't born of the Vale. In fact, none of them were. As she grew up in the Vale, she had a knack for discerning foreign features in people. If the Vale was going to war then these men could be mercenary, but that did not explain why she was being guarded by them. They also called her "Lady Rowena Arryn" instead of "my Lady", implying that they swore no allegiance to her House.

She was sent here for her own safety, or that what she was told. That was several weeks ago. Something was very wrong right now as her heart thumped rapidly. She gulped and mustered her courage to prevent the dreadful thought forming on her face. "I want to see my husband, Jon Arryn. Take me to him," she commanded like any highborn woman. The men just stood there, staring back at her.

"Did you not hear me?"

That got some sort of response, but it wasn't the one she'd expected. One of them – the largest – walked toward her as she tensed up and moved back a little in fright. She could visible see his smirk as he passed her by to open the door to the outside. The moment he did, a strong gust of wind entered causing her to shiver. Beyond the opening, she could see a blizzard was brewing with appalling visibility.

"Shall we go?" He asked, cocking his head over his shoulder at her. She felt the icy hand wrapping around her slender frame while he stood firm on his ground and showing no sign of discomfort. She exhaled steaming mist before it was dispersed by the howling wind. She realized that no one would make it very far in this deadly weather.

"Stop messing around. You're letting the heat out," the final person finally spoke up. He was in his early twenty with slightly tanned skin, but not a single strand of hair on top. The one by the opening chuckled and then slammed the door close without a care, causing her to tense up.

"We shall go when the blizzard is over, Lady Arryn," the bald one said, examining her carefully. She returned the gaze and saw something glinting in his dark blue eyes. She wasn't that much of a looker in her mid-thirty, but she was still a woman nonetheless and of noble birth. For a mercenary, that was good enough. However, his eyes displayed no lust, but something else that she could not interpret fully. A mixture of emotion, and it'd made her strangely uncomfortable.

"You should return back to your room to rest, Lady Arryn," he advised with a small smile. She took it, feeling dejected while returning back up the cold steps. She did not enter her room as requested once she reached the top and out of view. Instead, she seated at the top of the staircase. From that spot, she could hear the three men conversing below, but she kept quiet so she could ear dropped on their conversation.

"Heard the Mad King torched two of the Starks, and now demanding the rest, but the Lord refused to hand them over," said one of them. From his voice, she discerned it as the shortest person of the trio.

"Not just the Stark, he wants Robert as well," the bald one corrected.

"Didn't it all started with a girl? What's the wench name? Lyna Stark?" The tallest one questioned.

"Lyanna Stark. Yes. She got kidnapped by the prince Rhaegar or so I heard. Her elder brother, Brandon tried to get her back, but was arrested by the King when he did. Lord of Winterfell, their father, rode to save his son once he heard the news about his heir. Neither have made it out of King's Landing afterward, and rumors has it that the King had them both executed in a gruesome manner," the bald one explained.

"Both died by fire then?" The shorter one asked.

"No, only Lord Stark did. His son, Brandon, was hanged or something. After their death, the King then demanded both Robert and Eddard from the Vale, but Lord Arryn refused to give them up for whatever reason. Because of that, there's a great amount of frictions between the great Houses right about now," he answered dryly.

"Why would he do that? Should just give up those bastards and be done with it," the taller one said as the shorter one agreed.

"Well, some say it was unjust execution since Brandon Stark only wanted justice for his sister, albeit rashly. Others say he actually trespassed into the Red Keep and foolishly threatening to kill Rhaegar before the throne. Regardless of what Brandon had said then, King Aerys II Targaryen was growing senile and unstable and truly believed Brandon was plotting to kill the crown Prince. From the little misunderstand; it had caused the death of both Starks and divided the Houses somewhat," the bald man said as the other two was in thought.

"How much the Mad King would give me for both of their heads?" The tallest one asked with all seriousness. Another moment of silence followed as each took a sip from their cup.

"Well?"

"A lot I guess. But the real question is would you make it out of King's Landing alive with those gold?" The bald one questioned. "Besides, neither the wolf nor the stag are here in the Vale right now. Eddard had returned to the north in order to rally his men as he's now Lord of Winterfell. I'm not sure where the Robert went. I guess would be some brothel," he answered with a frown.

"You sure are knowledgeable for a mercenary," the shortest one said as the tallest one nodded.

"Well, I sleep around a lot, and the whores tell me things," the bald one replied with a grin. Moment later, they all cracked up and started making jokes. They soon began discussing about how many girls they raped at the horror of the ear-dropper.

(…)

"The youngest I had was twelve summer, she not bleed and incredible tight. I had to nail her into a pole and pressed her head into the dirt. I thought she enjoyed it when she stopped screaming when I spread her from behind. I didn't realized I crushed her neck when I did that so I was basically screwing a corpse," the tallest one said as the other two cracked up.

"Cheer here, we'll we have plenty more such memory when war break out! We shall fuck, pillage, and kill as much as we like!" The shortest one said as they all cheered and drank from their cup. Once emptied, they refilled again.

"Well said, lad!"

"Tell me, which side you think will win?"

"The three House, even allied together, have no chance of winning against the crown," the bald one replied flatly as the other two blinked. Lady Arryn gasped a little at that, but kept her voice down.

"Are you sure?"

"Lord Stark can muster as many men from the North as he wanted and the Vale could do the same, but the Tully controlled Riverrun and could block them at the crossroad along with the Lannister. Robert could assault King Landing from Storm's End, but he would be cut off with the rest of the alliance and be flanked by the Tyrell or Martell. If the rebellion is to succeed, they need to secure at least the loyalty of the Tully or the Lannister. When one joined their cause, the other will sit out and see who will come out as a victor. My money is on the Tully since the Brandon was supposed to marry one of the Tully girls before his untimely demise. I believed Eddard Stark will honor that arrangement if it could secure their alliance," he answered as the two blinked again. That was some deep insight.

"Shit! I'm on the wrong side! I should join the Targ then!"

"We still could," the other one said.

"Unfortunately, both of you won't be able to," the bald man claimed as the other two had a confused expression on.

"What do you mean…" the tallest one began, but dropped his cup onto the floor. Red wine spilled across the stoned floor. There was no strength left in his grip as the bald one smiled. He pulled out his scimitar, and with one clean slash, a head fell and rolled along the floor. The shortest one tried to pull out his holstered weapon in panic, but was impaled through the head before he could.

He pulled out his weapon as the dead man fell onto the ground. The metal cup was clattering about while a shriek could be heard near the staircase. The bald man eyed the woman impassively. Once she disappeared from the view, he used the dead man's sleeve to clean his blade and holstered it by his waist again. He then ascended the stone staircase. But just before he reached the top, he had to dodge a flying projectile that aimed squarely for his head. It exploded into wooden splinters against the hardened wall. He whistled at the debris, showering the steps beneath while rubbing his forehead a little.

"Stay back!" Rowena demanded, holding a small knife at him.

"Please calm down, my Lady," he said, bowing at the woman. Rowena was a bit surprised that he had done that. He addressed her properly and his deadly weapon was holstered. It could be a ruse, thus she was terrified. She saw him killed two of his comrades in cold blood after a rather horrid conversation about pillaging and raping. He approached her slowly as she moved back and slammed her back against the wall. Her hand was shaking as she thought about committing suicide. However, before she could, his hand grabbed the weapon away.

"I am not here to hurt you. I'm here to get you out of the Vale because your life is in danger," he said as blinked.

"W-what do you mean?"

"Lord Arryn is preparing for war against the King since he would not hand over the boys. However, not every Lord in the Vale thought the same so there is a discord. Your father is against your husband, my Lady. Your father argued that there's no concrete evidence that prince Rhaegar actually kidnapped Lyanna, and Brandon Stark did threatened the crown prince in front of the King so that was treason. But Jon loves Robert and Eddard too much. He sees them as the sons he never had and blinded to reason," he said.

"No, that can't be. If what you said is true then we just need the support of the Tully, and I know I can persuade my father to join my husband's cause," Rowena said, seemingly regaining her calmness.

"It's already in the making, my Lady. However, the Tully demanded union through blood for their support; their two daughters for your husband's two foster sons. It would join all their Houses together in one move. Eddard, being selfless as he is accepted it since his deceased father already promised such a union, but Robert refused to love anyone besides Lyanna Stark so Lord Arryn gave a compromise," he said as Rowena gasped.

"Is that why he wanted to kill me so he could…"

"No, my Lady. Lord Arryn, even in his foolishness, does have some sense of honor and moral. He promised the Tully that their daughter will wed an Arryn for their support. However, someone else is pulling the string to have you killed through an unfortunately accident. Winter is very cold in some part of the Vale as it on high elevation. You will die of winter chill if you stay here," he warned.

"But, I… I must tell my father…"

"I'm sorry, my Lady," he said as he lowered his head. Rowena understood the gesture immediately.

"Please… what happened to my father? Is he…?"

"Your father had passed away. In fact, all the major opposition to the rebellion in the Eyrie has been murdered. Without them to voice the opposition, there was no longer any discord. The bannermen, including your father's, gave their allegiance to Lord Arryn and prepping for war," he said as Rowena dropped to her knees. She could not believe what she had heard.

"Why… how could they? Who? Was it Jon? No, Jon wouldn't do that… so who?"

"I do not know. It could be the Tully, the Stark, the Baratheon or maybe someone else holding a grudge against all three," he said. "Regardless who the mastermind is so please my Lady, we must go quickly as you are the only person left that hinder the plan," he insisted.

"Who are you? Why are you helping me?"

**XxXxX**

"My savior never told me his name as if he was ordered not reveal it. He did say he was serving Lord Harry of House Phenix. I've never heard such House or that person's name before, but I felt that this Lord Harry seemed to be infatuated with me from the way my protector talked about him. I'm unsure what to make of all this Harry character. In my escape, every place I stayed seemed to be furnished to great quality that even a King would envy. There were inns in secluded places that should not be possible as there was no road connecting to it. It was as if it the building was erected just for me. That actually frightened me more than I could describe."

"We made it to Gulltown after a few days. It was not under my husband's control at the time as the inhabitants were still loyal to Aegon II. The crew of The Lone Maiden waited eagerly for me just like all those people I saw along the way. It was there that my body guard separated from me. He said he could not join me on the ship, and he had something else he must do. It departed my homeland to where I would be safe and raise my child. I knew I wasn't barren as something managed to grow inside of my womb. I decided then that if it was a boy then I will name him Henry in honor of the person who saved my life. Perhaps, one day, my child will return back to the place I once called home and meet this person Harry," Henry read the final diary page with a heavy sigh. It was the last entry she wrote as the ship sank a few days later.

'How is that possible?' Henry thought to himself as he seated at one end of the long dinner table. From the description that his mother gave of her so-called protector, it was obviously Simm down the smallest detail. The way the man handled his weapon was also a dead giveaway. 'This is like a self-fulfilling prophecy or something… I hate those!'

'Did I somehow travel back in time to save my mother, but then why didn't I see her through to the end?' Henry thought as he conjured up a time-turner in his hand. He then frowned as he remembered a certain know-it-all witch that was his friend in another life. He cocked his head to the side and wondered if she would scold him for using such thing.

"No, Harry! You can't go back in time to save your mother! And you definitely can't go back more than five hours," Henry mimicked Hermione's way of speaking and then chuckled. She was right. Time-turner could only go back five hours at most, and running into his younger self would be catastrophic. Saving his mother would alter his own past.

While Henry was contemplating on the plausible effect of time travel, Sansa Stark pulled herself up from the bed as her stomach grumbled. She remembered that she had not eaten anything since her kidnapping, which was at least half a day ago. She pushed open the only way out and entered a dimmed-lit corridor. Candles were floating above in the ceiling. She continued down the hall and opened the end door as bright light from beyond invaded. The first thing she saw was strange white mists that obscuring much of the surrounding. The air felt lighter than usual as she tried to fill her lungs, holding her chest.

The second thing she noticed was that her attire had been modified slightly. It was still long full sleeves, heavy skirts, high necklines like a Northerner, but the fabric was made of fine silk with embroidered birds chasing one another. The threads formed those carefree creatures glittered when being bath in any form of light. Golden ribbon-like belt wrapped around her slender waist with wolves motifs adorning each inches.

The third thing she noticed was clattering noises could be heard in the eerie mist. It was quite faint as she tried to move toward it to make out what it was. Something nudged her leg as she looked down. It was a brush sliding back and forth, scrubbing the wooden floor. Her heart thumbed rapidly as she thought the crew of the ship was invisible like a ghost. A pole smacked her back as she squealed and turned around. It was a broom, brushing away the dirt along the floor. She stepping back from them and tripped over another cleaning tool. She shrieked and landed on her bottom with a thump.

Something had heard that. "Sansa?" A deep and ominous voice called out. She turned frightfully toward it and saw a shadow of something in the fog. It didn't look human at all with multiple limbs. Her mind raced and quickly equated it to some sort of demon that her torturer had summoned. She saw him create creature out of fire so this was not farfetched. She remembered the pain she endured hours ago before trying to get away. Unable to see where she was going, she slammed against the ship's railing and nearly fell overboard as she looked down. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw the ocean thousands of miles below.

The ship was floating within a dense cloud.

"Sansa!" Someone grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. She initially tried to attack whoever that person was, but entered his embrace after she recognized him.

"Father," the girl whimpered.

"Shsssh… it's okay," Lord Stark held his sobbing daughter in his arms. A bald man stood patiently beside him as the fog continued to drift along the ship's deck.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Note:<strong>

Most of the story will take place on land, but the ship is like a mobile base. It's a badass ship that can fly or go underwater. I'm basing time travel theory on HP's book/movies so no branching timelines like back to the future. That means Henry can't fuck with time unless he planned it out correctly. This chapter hinted he was able to, and that also mean some character can be saved without disrupting the timeline like Princess Elia.

**_Comment, criticisms and review are welcome!  
>Flaming and Insults will be ignored!<em>**


	4. Sung

**From Ashes (Harry Potter x Game of Thrones)**

**Disclaimer: **This story is fiction. All the characters, names and places belong to their respective owners.

Lady Rowena Arryn was the second wife of Lord Jon Arryn. She supposedly died from winter chill in the cannon, but her death makes very little sense unless winter chill was a name of a disease. That is, Winter Chill with capitalization; it wasn't in the cannon. Thus, no noble-born would die because of the cold unless they sleep in the snow on purpose.

* * *

><p><strong>=[From Ashes]=<br>Sung**

Total darkness invaded his vision as his eyes were closed. Strong hands gripped tightly the leathers, which in turned wrapped around the handle of the single-edged blade. With his sight removed from the equation, all his other senses heightened to compensate. His ears twitched and in a fraction of a second later, he sidestepped gracefully. Something flew passed his previous spot from the breeze that washed over his bare skin. He lowered his head lightly and did the same to the curved steel in his hands while trying to discern any odd noises from the vicinity. It came as expected. His muscled arms swung upward, allowing the sharp edge to bisect the flying wooden weapon before sidestepped again to dodge another.

He repeated the process again several more time with perfection before a creaking noise forced him to cock his head toward the only door of the training chamber. His dark blue eyes opened slowly to see the person standing in the opening. The black-haired newcomer glanced at the floating blade with a small smile before the starling green gaze landed on him. He exhaled deeply before filling his emptied lungs again. He then allowed one hand off the handle as droplets of sweat ran down his naked, heaving chest. The tanned skin had a few bruises here and there, but none seemed to be recent.

"Training hard, master Simm?"

"Of course, Cap–" He wasn't able to finish when his body reacted on his own to evade another flying sword thrust that intended to knock him out. It was close. He could feel the spirally wind sliding across his shoulder that generated by the projectile. It would have been painful if the strike connected fully. His mind and body reminded him from the phantom pulses.

Henry saw that unintended evasion and chuckled. With a wave of his right hand, sound of clattering of woods against woods filled the room. It died down quickly as it came. "At first, I thought you just wanted to get beat up, but I guess this training raised your awareness to danger or something like that?" Henry inquired skeptically while navigating through the objects littering the floor to close the distance.

"It did was like that when I started. But now, I got the hang of it. The proper training was having numerous logs suspended by strings so navigating through them without getting hit is difficult, but this could also work since it's more random," Simm replied and holstered his weapon around his waist before stretching and relaxing his muscles.

"Interesting… if you keep it up, there will be no one that could get a drop on you. You will be the best sword user in miles," Henry said as Simm shook his head lightly.

"I doubt that, Captain. There's no such thing as the best. I trained because I wanted to be a person that could kill another person's will without bloodshed," Simm claimed before frowning.

"Don't we all? Then the world would be peaceful and happy," Henry snorted. A thoughtful expression appeared soon after. "Not really my business, but have you ever taken a life before?"

"Not directly, Captain," Simm answered, fidgeting his blade's handle by his waist. Henry decided to take that answer to heart. "Thanks for setting up the training room, Captain. It's really useful."

"No worry. Like you, I am currently training as well. Magic is like a muscle. The more I used it, the better I can do it again. Leviosa, ahem… Levitation is one of the easiest magic to do. The heavier the object I levitated, the more 'experience' I get I suppose," Henry said before having another thoughtful expression. He then snapped his finger and pointed the index one upward. "I know! I will levitate the entire ship next."

"Hang on, Captain. That's not a good idea. If the ship drop out from the sky, we, whom I mean me, will die when it hits the ground," Simm pointed out as Henry crackled up a bit. "But you're free to do so when I'm not onboard," Simm added with a smug. Henry nodded after he had his fill. It wasn't like he was going to let something like that happen.

"Don't worry, I will tell you when I do it so you can brace yourself," Henry joked before shifting into a serious expression. "Speaking of which, I need you to go out again. Do you mind?"

"Hmm… I don't mind, Captain, but somewhere warm this time? Me and the North don't go well together. I take burning in the sun before getting frozen any day," Simm queried as Henry raised an eyebrow. Simm grew up in Volantis on the continent Essos as an orphan on the street. Like most people there, he gotten use to the heat.

"I didn't know you hate the cold? If you have said so, I wouldn't send you there and would have done it myself," Henry asked with mild curiousity. Simm frowned at the statement since Henry was referring to the previous task he had done in the North.

"I don't hate the cold. I just feel uncomfortable around anywhere that snow…" Simm asserted. His fingers toyed with the small silver tooth bounded by mini chain around his necklace. He had it for as long as he could remember as it was the only memento of his biological family. "…they brought back one of my earliest memories. I think my younger sister died in a blizzard long ago. She kept shouting Simon or Simmen before her voice died out."

"I see," Henry mumbled lowly. Snow never descended on Volantis, at least not in the last few decades so when did that piece of memory happened? Henry shrugged as it wasn't really his business to dwell into his friend's tragic past. "We all have some form of bad childhood memory, but one should conquer it and move on, master Simm. Another thing, if you have such a problem, why did you choose that sigil for your House?"

"Hah? Oh, I didn't know it was associated with winter. I just thought it was cool that's all," Simm answered with a shrug. "But enough about me, Captain. What do you need?"

Henry nodded. "I read most of the pages in my late mother's diary. A few last pages are still missing as the water tore it into pieces and scattered it around the ship, which I will find eventually. Comparing what I know so far to recorded history of Westeros, it implied that House Arryn is afflicted with some sort of supernatural calamity."

"You mean a curse?"

"Maybe… My father's first wife, Jeyne Royce, died in childbirth. The child did not survive. My mother was noted to die of winter chill, but that wasn't true. Appeared to be childless, my father named his younger brother, Ronnel, as his apparent heir, but the man died of bad belly. My uncle's only living son, Elbert Arryn, was next in line, but was executed by the Mad King. A distant cousin, Denys Arryn, became heir next, but was killed in the final battle of the Rebellion," Henry said while Simm cleaned the sweat off his chest and back before putting it away.

"Isn't a curse possible with magic?"

"Yes, that's plausible, or someone's foul play," Henry said as Simm had a questioning look on. Henry sighed and elaborated. "Magic has not been seen in Westeros in a long time until I was born, but I wasn't raised in Westeros. Even if I did, I wasn't able to use it until more than a decade later so I must assume there's another logical explanation. I thought a long time on it, but without actual evidence, my theory is not concrete."

"Captain, you are one of the smartest people I know, so if you think it's right, it probably is," Simm pointed out. Henry rolled his eyes a little. Simm didn't really know that many people and almost all of them were cutthroat morons so the complement wasn't that great.

"Right…." Henry continued nonetheless. "Moon tea aborts pregnancy, but it can induce childbirth if a fetus is too far along. Doing so will most likely kill the mother and if the child was not developed fully in the womb, the chance of that child surviving is very low. Jeyne Royce died in labor, but the child was stillborn so that's was most likely what had happened. I know for a fact that my father and mother were not barren, but in twenty years they were together, they could not conceive a child? I don't think any man could go a few days without shag… fucking his wife, so it was likely that someone dosed my mother with the same stuff regularly."

With that said, Henry sighed and strolled around the room for a bit to gather the rest of his thought. Simm, on other hand, had a grim face on while he redressed his chest that included an unbuttoned brown shirt with low collar to hide the necklace from view. A leather black vest was worn afterward. He then eyed his captain for a moment before speaking up. "Captain. If it's not magic, then your uncle was poisoned and the Mad King got to your cousin before the culprit could. The last person was killed in battle. Considering the chaotic nature of a battle, a stray arrow could have done him in. It seemed like being the Lord Arryn's heir sends them to an early grave."

Henry stared at Simm for a bit before snickering. "More or less."

"If that the case, should I be feeling sorry for which ever bastard that tries to off you?" Simm questioned mockingly before they both cracked up.

Once the joke was over, Henry stated, "no one really knows that I'm the trueborn heir. Those that do most likely dead so if my theory was correct, the culprit, if still alive, would try to off my half-brother, Robert, instead."

"Or maybe that person already has. The child heir is better dead than alive from what I could gather from the folks around the Vale. Mentally and physically stunted… if I was me, I probably jumped out the moon door already," Simm quipped as Henry frowned. "I don't like this shadowy mastermind using a child… shouldn't we help him, Captain? Blood and all that," Simm added.

"Hmmm… I should, shouldn't I? I don't want to disclose my heritage as I've no desire to rule over anything. It's too much of a hassle, and if I just appear in the Eyrie, demanding to see the sickly boy stating that I could heal him, I'm afraid it won't go well at all. Besides, with magic, I could only heal his body, not his mind. Like you said, Robert might be better dead than alive given the state he's in right now," Henry answered darkly.

"But, Captain. Even if you don't want to rule the Vale, shouldn't you kill the culprit before the next heir died under mysterious circumstance?" Simm asked the valid question.

"Yes, that's why I'm giving you the task. I don't want to show myself to the world unless I have to. I speculated that the person or group working in the shadow also manipulated the events back then, and most likely inciting the whole Rebellion. Four person of interest back then was Hoster of House Tully, Eddard of House Stark, Robert of House Baratheon, and my father," Henry said.

Simm knew what his Captain wanted. "So which one should I go after first? They're all over Westeros."

"Hoster Tully is too old and senile. My father had passed away so I can't really ask him so that leaves Robert and Eddard," Henry said. Having the resurrection stone right about now could be helpful, but it implied only capable of bringing back a person loved one. Henry did not love his biological father so it might be useless.

"Lord Stark is in King's Landing with Robert. Kidnapping him is easier than kidnapping the King of the Seven Kingdom," Simm advised with a chuckle. Henry remained impassive at the joke as he thought Lord Stark was in the North until Simm had state otherwise. He thought a bit more on that, but felt that there was no different. Kidnapping Robert Baratheon would take the same effort as kidnapping Eddard Stark.

"Lord Stark then," Henry agreed.

"Lord Stark," Simm repeated.

"Lord Stark," Simm said as his steel clashed against another, held by the said person. Surrounding them was dense white fog that already obscured half of their body from either's perspective.

Eddard checked his footing and using it to press his might against the bald opponent before they both took a step back. Eddard panted, trying to gather as much air as possible. The battle had only gone on for less than a minute, but he had never felt so exhausted before. In contrast, his opponent seemed still be in tip top shape. It was just hours ago that he was released from his bondage below deck and allowed to stroll around the ship freely. When that happened, Lord Stark immediately tried to find a way to escape just in case his captor would not let him and his daughter go, but found that it was impossible from their current location thousands of miles above sea level. In more than one way, this ship was like the Eyrie of the Vale; inescapable.

He went to check on Sansa, but she was sleeping and he didn't want to interupt. Thus while waiting for his daughter to recover, he contemplated what had happened thus far by the ship's railing. A bald person, who appeared in a familiar torrent of fire close by, introduced himself as Simm. The strange red bird that was on the man's shoulder left afterward. Simm wanted a formal challenge while giving the Lord of Winter a weapon he was comfortable with. The fine steel was almost the same as his ancestral blade of Valyrian steel, Ice. Lord Stark's refused the request at first, but the man did not take no for an answer, forcing Eddard to defend himself from incoming strike with deadly intention.

"What's wrong? I thought you're better warrior than this," Simm asked with a smile. He then stepped backward, allowing the fog to mask his presence. Eddard held his weapon and readied himself for a strike that he knew would come. Eerie silence before a footwork could be heard. Metals clanged as he managed to block the slash that emerged from the mist. The war veteran retaliated immediately, but Simm quickly jerked back into the mist, avoiding it.

"Stop this! There's no reason for us to fight," Ned exclaimed with agitation.

"Ah, but there is, Lord Stark. You just don't know it yet," Simm retorted and thrust his blade forward, forcing Ned to deflect to the side. They then parried a few times before Eddard had only one hand on the handle in an attempt for a greater reach. In one swift motion, Simm sidestepped, grabbing the Lord of Winterfell's outstretched wrist from bottom and using the blade handle to crush it from the top. The crunching pain caused Ned to drop his weapon before the sharp's edge of a scimitar pressed against Eddard's neck, drawing a bit of blood.

"Looks like you're dead, Lord Stark," Simm said with a smile as Ned held his breath. Simm then retrieved his weapon from Lord Stark's neck. "Always wanted to see how well I could fight against a legend. I would have fight against Robert, but the bloated man couldn't hold a sword if his life depended on it."

Ignoring the insult to his deceased friend, Lord Stark rubbed his neck to clear the blood away while panting. "Where did you learn the blade?" Ned asked.

"Self-taught mostly," Simm answered, picking up the disarmed weapon that was laying on the deck and sheathed it in its scabbard. He then extended the weapon to Lord Stark. "You will need this when Captain returns you back to King's Landing, or Winterfell if you prefer."

"Captain? Henry Arryn?" A confirmation came in the form of a nod. "If he's truly from Jon's loin then he is a trueborn son, he should be…" Ned continued.

"Stop right there, Lord Stark. Titles to my Captain meant very little if at all, and telling him what he should do because of his duty most likely yield the opposite result," Simm interrupted and shook his head. "Know that you're only here because Captain feels his parents deserve some comforts in this injustice world even though they did not raise him, and the only reason you are free is because he believed you are telling the truth and had nothing to do with it."

"If he believed me, then he should know that Jon has no hand in Lady Rowena's death. Why didn't he go and see him?"

"Unfortunately, by the time Captain knew who his father was and care enough, it was no longer possible. Lord Arryn had been murdered, but he was indifferent to the man's death," Simm answered.

"Indifferent? Why? Is it not a son's duty to honor his father?"

Simm snickered, finding it very amusing. "Lord Stark, I was born with nothing and raised in the street as an orphan, living day by day and not knowing when it would be my last. As a bastard, I knew who my so called noble father was, but lacked the will and the mean to see him personally. Captain might not be a bastard, but all the same. He only honored those that make the effort and strive for it, and it's one of the reasons why I followed him without question. He sees everyone for what they are, not what they could be from the illusion that their titles and birthright granted them. A King, a Lord, a Knight, a peasant, when stripped bare will not be different from each other. Thus, Lord Arryn was just a stranger in the Captain's eyes," Simm stated flatly.

Eddard remained silent when hearing that. Simm shrugged as he took out a small bag of seeds and began feeding the crimson bird that had landed on his shoulder again. Several buckets of water and cleaning equipment emerged from beyond the fog. They started cleaning the wooden deck at Lord Stark's awe. Magic was useful as he watched them with great interest. A shriek in a familiar voice beyond the mist caught his attention, forcing him to turn around.

"Sansa?" Eddard called out, but his voice was coarse and deep. Simm stood behind Ned to the side and narrowed his dark blue eyes to make out the silhouette in the mist. Simm knew who this was immediately as no one could trespass onto the ship from the outside world, but she took off directly toward the other opposite railing.

"It's your daughter, Lord Stark. You should stop her before she falls over the side to her death," Simm said almost casually as Eddard made haste. They caught up with Sansa quickly, allowing her to sob in her father's arm.

"Father," she whimpered while Simm watched them from the side. He was patient while allowing Fawkes to peck on the seeds.

"Where is Lord Arryn?" Eddard asked after Sansa calmed down. Simm raised an eyebrow at the man. "I want to speak with him," Eddard requested. Simm exhaled and nodded.

"Follow me closely, don't fall off the edge now," Simm warned them. They reached the cabin door hidden in the mist eventually and through to the hallway. Simm strolled down the lit hall to the other end. Lord Stark followed behind while holding his daughter's hand. The heavy wooden door opened slowly in their approach to reveal some sort of dining room beyond. The chamber was filled with candles adoring the side and above. The ceiling was magically illustrated with clear starry sky. In the center of the room located a rectangular table made of dark patterned wood. Decorated throne-like chair was at each end. One of them was occupied by their host.

Henry looked up to see them as the mythical bird left Simm's shoulder and landed on the back support of his seat. It was a head taller than the seated occupant. The creature flapped it wings a few times before nesting while the rest approached the table. "I didn't expect to see you so soon, but please, join me for a meal."

"Father, it's a wolf," Sansa called out after examining the intricate design on the only empty seat. Unlike Henry's reddish chair with birds motif including claws and wings, this one was light blue with wolfs and fangs features carved into the material. Eddard nodded as he accepted the seat while Henry blinked.

"Thank you for the seat. I've never had one like this before," Lord Stark complimented as Henry leered at Simm, who coughed once. Henry chuckled and returned his attention back to the Lord of Winterfell.

"No need, Lord Stark," Henry replied humbly and waved one hand to conjure duplicates of the same seat to each side of the table for the last two people. Sansa looked around, expecting some sort of servant to help her before taking her seat. She was the last to do so.

"Shouldn't you have the same one as Lord Henry?" Sansa asked across the table as Simm cocked his head to Henry. A brief exchange before he returned back to the girl.

"It's not necessary, Lady Sansa. Seat of the House Phenix isn't for me," Simm answered with a smile. Sansa returned the smile while Lord Stark felt something was amiss here.

"Lord Arryn, may I speak freely about your father?" Lord Stark asked.

"There's no need yet, Lord Stark. You and Lady Sansa must be famished from our previous session so eat first before we discuss anything of important," Henry replied and clapped his hand together. Foods magically appeared on the table causing Sansa to gasp. Lord Stark, on the other hand, could no longer be shocked by such thing. Surprised, yes, but he did not show it on his face.

"Please enjoy the meal that master Simm made heartedly. It's to your Northerner style is it not?"

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><p><strong>Author Note:<strong>

Is the pace of the story good? I want to give details and life to the character (Simm) before we get to the fun bits. The title implied the song of Ice and Fire being sung, which it will. Phenix (Pheonix) represents fire and light. Which mythical creature represents ice and darkness? It's hinted in this chapter, but I didn't state it.

**_Comment, criticisms and review are welcome!  
>Flaming and Insults will be ignored!<em>**


	5. Inherited

**From Ashes (Harry Potter x Game of Thrones)**

**Disclaimer: **This story is fiction. All the characters, names and places belong to their respective owners.

I thought the pace of the story was normal. The transition between timeline didn't seem to be that confusing when I read it with a fresh mind. It's not like I jumped between multiple timeline in alternating paragraphs. So far, the story is only like 14k words so of course nothing substantial was revealed yet, but that will soon change!

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><p><strong>=[From Ashes]=<br>Inherited**

Sansa let out a surprised gasp when the once emptied table was now filled with numerous dishes of all kind. With a clap from the host, they'd magically appeared right before her vivid blue eyes. While there were only two dozen plates positioned equally around the table top, the cuisines held in each were beautifully and uniquely crafted. Unnecessary some might say, but could not refute the exquisite of it all when more than a few dishes illustrated animals in the form of editable art. Those imageries were oddly familiar as childhood's memory nudged the back of her mind when she scrutinized the plates – one by one – within her reach.

The steam they gave off swirled playfully in the flickering candle light shining from above in a hypnotic fashion. Her stomach grumbled eagerly as the sweet aroma rode the warmed air in an attempt to fill her entire being with temptation. She swallowed the excess saliva pooling around her throat and wetted her full lips. It had been a while since she felt this kind of hunger, and the host did invite her and her father to dine.

Sansa did not forget the things he had done only a day ago, but it seemed like a distant memory. This generous feast could be seen as a form of apology, and with that kind of mindset, the tingling phantom pain melted away like it never existed – at least for now. Her only goal right now was to immerse herself in pleasure of taste and satisfy the burning sensation in her gut. However, she regained enough self-control to eye her father at one end of the table for the permission.

The Lord of Winter's eyes remained hard as stone even after noticing his daughter's plight. It was understandable since neither had anything to fill their belly for more than half a day. His gray eyes returned to the plates lay out before him. They were the dishes from all over the Northern land with some that only appeared in Winterfell once or twice on special occasion if memory served. Eddard Stark had no doubt that they would taste the same just as he remembered, but to assemble such a variety of dishes with perfection on short notice had brought suspicion to his mind.

"Please enjoy yourself, Lord Stark and Lady Sansa," their host, Henry, requested and spread his right hand above the plate before him. The young black-haired man remained seated at one end of the table in the throne-like chair with winged creature's pattern as worthy of his new House while a charming smile showed itself on his face. He continued to wait for his guests to initiate the feast with the first bite.

His first-mate, Simm, remained silent and watched the girl directly opposite of him attentively.

"Father," Sansa practically begged, matching her father's gaze once more. Considering what had happened in the past few days, Eddard felt that there was no need to be overly cautious at the generous feast, so he gave his daughter the permission.

Henry watched Sansa as she sampled a few plates directly in front of her. Approval was clearly noted on her very ladylike expression, not that he needed to see it. Positive emotions radiated from the delicate girl similarly to a hot furnace on a winter day with him seeking refuge from the chilling air. Unlike Lord Stark's mass of confusion and conflicting emotions, Sansa was a simpleton in the most sense of the word. There were people like her in the world, and Henry could read them like an opened book without purposely invading their inner thoughts. He detested the latter method as he knew how painful it would be when invoked. His past life experience with trauma childhood had taught him well in that regard. Furthermore, there was an issue of privacy as invading a person's mind against their will was something he wasn't willing to cross just yet. His starling green eyes averted from the girl and noticed the plates before Lord Stark had not been touched. Even something simple as a meal brought forth countless of conflicting memories in the grey eyes man, making it difficult for him to read correctly.

"I think there is a custom in Westeros that goes back thousands of years to the days of the First Men and the old gods," Henry said thoughtfully as the three other people in the room paid him some mind. Henry folded his hands and stared directly at the Lord of Winterfell. "I believe if one to invoke this sacred law of hospitality, one must eat the food and drinks the drink off a host's table beneath the host's roof. In doing so, he or she, noble or not is protected from harm for the duration of the stay."

Sansa and Simm knew what Henry was talking about. It was one the sacred tradition since the First men set foot, thousands of years ago. However, they remained silent as those words were directed at Eddard alone.

"You are referring to Guest Right, Lord Arryn," Lord Stark replied. Henry nodded and then picked up a silver fork and knife by his side. The cold metal in his hands allowed him to carry out the needed task. After a few quick mouthfuls, Henry drank some wine to show his promise of hospitality. Eddard Stark inhaled and did the same to invoke such tradition. Before the eyes of the Gods, old and new, neither could harm each other.

Henry smiled and continued his meal along with the rest under the starry sky and candle lights.

"A little birdy told me that Lady Sansa nearly fall overboard? It would be most unfortunate if you did," Henry asked nonchalantly after taking a sip from his glass of red wine sometime later. Fawkes flapped its wings a couple of time while nesting on the chair's backrest as an indication. Two questions immediately came to the Starks' mind were when did the crimson bird tell its master that or how could such creature convey anything that detailed? They quickly answered their own question with the obvious truth that been showed again and again since their time here.

"Lord Stark managed to catch up with Lady Sansa in time," Simm answered after a small chuckle. Sansa bit her lower lip a little, knowing that she almost died from being a bit curious. It wasn't her fault. Who would have thought that the ship was airborne?

"We should have mentioned that the condition of the ship, Captain," Simm said. Henry nodded in agreement as it was his short sightedness. It must have slipped his mind as he usually enjoyed the company of brave and vigilant companion over frightened and fragile ones.

"I'm afraid the ship is currently anchored in the sky. The surrounding clouds might obscure your vision so be extra careful, and do not run on the deck unless you wish to fall over the side. I'm sure you'll die a horrible death when falling from this high up, even if you manage to land in water below," Henry warned flatly as Sansa stared at him in shock. He returned the girl's gaze with a sly smile. "Is it not better late than never? You can't say that I didn't warn you about such thing," Henry asserted sternly.

"Thank you for the warning, Lord Arryn," Lord Stark acknowledged the warning even though it seemed completely useless now. He believed the ship was in its current state was to prevent them from escaping like the way the Eyrie was built. However, it wasn't like that at all. Henry then placed a succulent piece of steak in his mouth with a nod as his magic continued to levitate the ship for training purposes. Whether it in the air or not, no one could leave this ship unless he allowed them to do so.

"I will be sure to remember it, my lord," Sansa finally said and averted her eyes from him to her father before returning to her plate. Henry chewed the meat a little, rolling the juices on his tongue while pondering about that reply. To most people, it sounded almost like a threat, but he decided to not make anything out of it from the emotion she radiated. He swallowed soon after and overwrote the sweet flavor with some sour red wine.

"I will return you to King's Landing," Henry declared after the meal concluded. The plates were magically removed to wherever they came from. Best guess would be the kitchen, but then that begged the question: Where was such place on the ship? Eddard had estimated on more than one occasion that the hallway was far larger than the ship's dimension from the outside. That was not counting the numerous rooms along the corridor on their way here. His and Sansa private quarter were as big as their own usual accommodation in the capital.

"You can't…" Sansa called out before looking at her father. The girl seemingly matured a little for the time she'd spent at King's Landing. "Father, we can't go back there."

Lord Stark agreed with that assessment. "Lord Arryn. My men are… no longer," Eddard said, swallowing his guilt. They had paid the price for his foolishness and mercy. Even so, they had served him and his family well so their names would be remembered for as long as he could. "May I asked, is it necessary to send us to King's Landing?"

Henry pondered if the Lord of Winterfell had forgotten about his other daughter, who should still be somewhere in the capital. Simm had told him that King's Landing was currently under lockdown after his little stunt so no one can leave the capital unless with the express permission from the King. Simm didn't need such permission after Henry left the plaza in panic.

"No it's not. I could send you anywhere in the world if I so desire. But you are charged with treason, Lord Stark, so shouldn't you pay the price for such crime? I might have disrupted your execution since I needed some information, but that does not mean I would let a guilty person to go free," Henry said darkly.

Fear filled her maiden heart from the statement. Sansa didn't know what had happened before her father's arrest. They all said her father was a traitor, but she knew without shadow of a doubt in her mind that her father would never betray the crown. She even begged for mercy before the King, in which he promised that as long as her father pronounced he was the rightful heir to the Throne, her father would be allowed to live. He broke that promise along with whatever fantasy she had for him.

"Father would never do such thing. He just wouldn't. Please don't send us back there," Sansa pleaded desperately. She begged again and again, but Henry heed her no mind. His green eyes were completely focused on the person of interest directly opposite of him.

"Please, tell him," She beseeched, looking at her father, who remained silent.

"Lady Sansa, I will return you to your room," Simm offered.

"No," Sansa refused. "Father, please say something."

Lord of Winterfell exhaled, leering at his eldest daughter with cold hardened eyes of an experience warrior. There were things he needed to say, but it would bring trouble to those that knew it. "Go back to your room. This does not concern you," he ordered.

Sansa was confused. She didn't understand what her father had said as her father's well-being was a concern. If he to be returned back there, he would surely die. She refused to comply at first before those same gray eyes narrowed at her. Strong and unwavering just like always. She tensed, turning around and saw the green pair of jewel on the other end. It was unyielding and unflinching just like her father. Hers could never like them. Dejected, she accepted the offer to return back to her room.

"The King… Robert has no trueborn heir," Lord Stark revealed after only he and Henry remained in the dining room. "Joffrey and Tommen are Jaime Lannister's bastards, born of his incestuous union with his twin sister, Cersei. Your father, Jon Arryn, died after he learnt the truth."

"Interesting… But that doesn't change the fact that you're a traitor to the crown," Henry asserted with a rather impassive expression. Trying to implicate the Lannister using his biological father's death will not yield the desire result. It might have worked on others, but not Henry. "He's still a King is he not? Joffrey sits on the Iron Throne and commanded his subjects while the people and army in his territory herald him as such. Isn't that the definition of a King?"

"How can that be? Joffrey has no claim. Stannis is the King by right," Eddard exclaimed. Henry sighed and shook his head a little. It was always like this with the inhabitants of this world. Birthright and lineage meant a great deal here, hence discrimination between the classes. Henry remembered that he had tried his best to remove such distinction in his former world. It was for equality, but the idea backfired spectacularly. The pure-blood practically revolted when their privilege was normalized with the mass. It was a mess afterward.

"Unfortunately, there's no right or wrong, but what the majority believed, Lord Stark. If the majority believed Joffrey is the King then he is will be one. If the majority believed you are a traitor then you are one. Robert Baratheon was the same after the war," Henry retorted. Propaganda seemed to be highly effective in this world. It wasn't what the actual truth was; it was what everyone believed in. Rumors could become the truth if enough people knew it.

"But Robert had a claim," Eddard argued, pointing out that Robert's grandmother was a Targaryen.

Henry simply chuckled. "Those do not carry the name of their House has no claim to that House. Robert was called a Baratheon and had no right to begin with. If he claimed such ancestry then he would be Robert Targaryen, not a Baratheon. The whole war was about overthrowing the old dynasty and replaced it with a newer and better one. Considering that it was called a Rebellion instead of a Revolution, Robert was and always will be the Usurper to the Throne. But people had accepted him King nonetheless. Since that was the case, why wouldn't they accept Joffrey as one? At least, this time, there would be less bloodshed and maybe a better rule than his supposedly father."

Eddard's mind reeled. Was it something like that? The Rebellion started out as a mean to seek justice for his late brother and father as well as rescuing his sister, but it dwelled into something else entirely as time went by. Perhaps that was the reason why Robert never punished Tywin Lannister for brutally ending the scion of House Targaryen.

Henry allowed the Lord of Winterfell a few minutes to think about it while sipping more wine from the glass at a leisure pace. He had seen plenty of time in his old life that war wasn't about solving conflict or justice no matter how much someone had said so. It was just a mean to grab powers; a bloody cover to eliminate one's enemies.

"You also seemingly forgot that you've confessed to treason in the sight of gods and men on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor," Henry decided to speak up once more. He did not reveal the current state of King's Landing, however.

"I was forced to… my daughters," Lord Stark said weakly.

"Is that so? Since you never truthfully agreed that Joffrey is your King by right, I suppose I could still send you and your daughter back home to help your eldest son in starting another rebellion against the crown. I'm sure either faction in the upcoming war – while preaching justice and honor – will happily pillage and rape the country side 'till their heart content," Henry mocked. "Also, did you forget you have two daughters?"

"Arya…" Eddard did not know where his youngest daughter had gone. Varys, the master of whisperer, had told him the girl managed to escape Ser Meryn and fled, but that was all he knew. "Do you know where she is?"

"I have some idea…" Henry answered. "I could also find and sent her to you as well. Family should be together in the coming darkness, Lord Stark."

"Coming darkness? It sounded like you know something else," Eddard questioned. He now realized that Cersei Lannister would never let go of the throne, inciting a civil war. His own son was marching down the Neck with a northern host while Stannis – due to his own fault – will try to claim his right. The Lord of Winterfell had a lot of free time to think about all the mistakes he'd made in the recent weeks. The last thing Renly told him was also of concern. But, Henry was implying something else.

Henry had a thoughtful expression on. The North would learn of it eventually as a dark entity stirred in the frozen land beyond the wall, gathering its strength with each passing day. He felt the twisted and vile magical energy in The Land of Always Winter the moment he sailed toward Westeros from Essos in order to learn about his mother's past. The ominous feeling grew stronger when he approached that general icy region of the North. Not knowing what it truly was, Henry became vigilant and stayed away as far as possible since his presence might also alerted it. He would never admit it from what he could sense, its magical power was surreal, far exceeding his own.

The fear of the unknown once again filled him like in another life. He knew that he would need to be stronger to confront whatever that was.

"Captain, something is definitely slumbering in the North. When I tried to get closer to that area, the strange creatures wandered… it was unlike anything I have ever seen before. It freaked me out. Could it be the Others from the Legend. If that the case, why was Fawkes seemed to be so frightened?" Simm asked after returning back on _The Lone Maiden_ with a burst of flames.

Henry concluded it wasn't the Others from the Legend. While that particular race wielded great power, they were in fact a living being. Fawkes had shown that the fleshless creatures through its eyes were neither dead nor alive, and appeared that they cannot be killed by normal means. It was as if life was given to something that wasn't alive in the first place. Whatever these abominations served seemed to be in some form of hibernation even though its magical power was leaking all over the North.

"I believed winter is coming, Lord Stark," Henry answered.

**XxXxX**

It had been a few days since the strange dark sorcerer took away the Starks right before everyone's eyes and evaded the King's justice. Most – noble or smallfolk – believed that Sansa had been killed in the inferno with no traces of her remained and Lord Stark's ultimate fate would be the same. Varys, on the other hand, believed otherwise. Not a single person was harmed by the sorcerer's demonstration. The deadly reptilian creatures had no intention of hurting anyone even though it easily could have. The fiery bird-like entity was the same, only there to prevent anyone from interfering with its master. The heat it generated was enough for such task.

"It could be some sort of hallucination, a trick," Cersei Lannister told the rest during a small council meeting he attended this morning. Pycelle, the Grand Maester, agreed while in his spare time whispering venomous idea to the young King, who demanded the culprit's head unreasonably. The old Lannister's loyalist also held the record of Robert's bastards which caused some concern. The kingdom was still in a state of panic as the gate was still locked. A witch hunt of sort was going on to weed any possible threat to the new King, and there was no need for another atrocity to occur.

"Paranoia and fear is a powerful tool," Illyrio Mopatis said, strolling down the hidden passage with Varys by his side. Only a handful of people knew all the secret tunnels beneath Red Keep, and two of them were having a rather casual conversation in this dark and damped place. "But what the master desires still eluded me."

"Such a shame, I thought you might know and share your theory," Varys implied something with a sly smile while locking the iron gate behind him.

"You are mistaken, Lord Varys. I do not wish to second guess the master's wisdom, not since the days when we're wandered the street of Pentos, looking for our next meal. Now, I practically owned Pentos, where my words is law," Illyrio said, remembering the faithful day that a dark cloaked sorcerer saved both of them from being stabbed to death by a rival gang. In exchange for a lifetime of servitude via magical binding contract, the sorcerer had rewarded each of them with a gift; a payment of sort. Illyrio asked for wealth beyond counting, and was granted as such. Countless coins passed through his hands each day as he was a merchant-prince. In retrospect, he should have asked for something better as no amount of wealth could bring back the love of his life, Serra.

"Hasn't everything prophesied have come to pass? Defiance of Duskendale, The Fall of the Dragon, Untamable Kraken, and now the Throne of Kings about to begin," Illyrio reminded the events that the master disclosed.

"Sadly yes," Varys replied bitterly as Illyrio shook his head. He knew what Varys was still regretful about.

"He'd told you that King's Landing will be sacked regardless whatever you could do to persuade the Mad King," Illyrio reminded Varys of his folly. Pycelle was too powerful to be challenge then. The man's poisoned word was all that Aerys II Targaryen heard on that day, allowing the sack of King's Landing by Lannister's forces. Babes were butchered that day when men and children were no longer. More women were raped than Varys could count. Their screams kept him from sleep many nights after.

"Most unfortunately that we only managed to save one," Varys said almost uncaringly. He learnt from his mistake. Nightmare from almost two decades ago no longer haunted him. Screams now muffled and every night was uneventful regardless whatever he did during the day. He could murder countless of people and still have a dreamless sleep, for they would die for a good cause.

"King comes and go. If you serve them, then you shall one day be cast aside and forgotten. Know that powers do not reside in an object like a throne. It is an illusion; a shadow upon the wall. Intangible, untouchable, yet it is there, luring men into its cold and dark embrace for the promise of powers that they could never hold. No, Varys, you will not serve men. You will serve something far greater, for it exists so shall men and all that came from men," the green eyes master stated.

The realm of men, Varys remembered. He must serve no King in particular as all men must die one day, but the realm must remain no matter what. "There should be three, but only two are known," Varys continued as Illyrio frowned.

"Through fire and blood, they shall be born. Brought forth by the one called stormborn," Illyrio recited the words that the master had said when he gave him three petrified dragon eggs long before he ever met Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Illyrio was smitten by the girl's growing beauty and thought of eliminating Viserys and claiming her as a wife. Luckily, he did not go through it as the magical marking on his right arm reminded him the price he must pay.

"I did not expect Khal Drogo to crown Viserys with molten gold, and now we down one Dragon. But I remained unconcerned, the master said there will be three Targaryen so there will be three Targaryen," Illyrio said with some remorse. If Viserys wasn't one of them, then he could have claimed Daenerys without consequences. An opportunity was lost. "Speaking of which, how does it feel to be in his presence once more?"

"Frightening familiar," Varys answered, lifting up his sleeve to show the same magical marking that Illyrio had. It took the form of a bird with very long tail wrapping around his arm and wrist. It appeared to be alive as its wing flapped back and forth occasionally. It was a reminder that if they were to break their contract, the creature would strangle them to death. "Strangely, he did not seem to recognize me. Could it be from my current appearance?"

Illyrio eyed Varys while patting his huge belly. They really let themselves go in the past decades, living in perfect comfort. Illyrio was a sell-sword while Varys was a thief before they were taken under the wing of a sorcerer. "Perhaps we should practice our former trade once more?"

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><p><strong>Author Note:<strong>

I always wondered who gave the order to kill Robert's bastard. Joffrey was stated in the Show while Cersei was implied in the book. Since this is GoT's crossover, I'm going with the Show version, but Pycelle had the record of all the bastards in the Kingdom. It's not farfetched for him to keep record on who Robert fucked. The man is fanatically loyal to the Lannister, and urging Joffrey to murder all possible heirs seemed like something he would do. Moving on to magic, Magical Binding Contract is not the same. For one, their magic won't kill them since they don't have any. The Pheonix tattoo will strangle them to death instead.

**_Comment, criticisms and review are welcome!  
>Flaming and Insults will be ignored!<em>**


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